Missing Pieces
by nikham3
Summary: Why Miranda wasn't around a lot toward the end and also an abrupt halt in someone's life. I won't update till I get 5 reviews, so review! Also, major drama. COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

Missing Pieces

Why Miranda really wasn't around a lot toward the end andan abrupt halt in someone's life.

Disclaimer: I don't own Lizzie McGuire, short and simple.

* * *

Lizzie sat on her couch seven years from her trip to Rome.She was 21 and living in her own apartment with Gordo. They had been dating for a year and decided to live in an apartment. Tears started streaming down Lizzie's cheek. She buried her face into a pillow and sobbed and Gordo went over to comfort her. He put his arms around her and squeezed her in a big hug. She pulled away from him. "Just leave me alone," she said as the tears flooded out of her eyes. "I blame myself!" 

"Lizzie, honey, come on, it wasn't your fault!" Gordo called after her as she slammed her bedroom door. He sighed, "It was mine."

* * *

Lizzie's POV: 

In case you haven't figured out, my best friend Miranda died last night. I just found out today. To seriously tell you the truth, I kind of knew it would happen. She was always missing from the picture, leaving Gordo and I to go to social events alone together. I suspected something was wrong once, and I asked her. She pushed me aside, denying my confrontation. I suspected that she was taking a drug or two. Truth is, she did. I should've stopped her, I know, but how could I? Every time I tried to help she would deny it!

I gave up eventually, and that's when I went off to college. Miranda didn't want to go to college; she called it a waste of time and money. She already knew that she was going to play music around the world. Gordo and I went to the same college, leaving Miranda alone a lot, trying to be with her as much as we could. Miranda started to develop new friends as we were gone. Her friends would always wear horrible punk clothing with things that should be censored on them. I knew she was falling in with the wrong crowd, I tried to help, I did try, I swear. But again, she denied, and I was left in the cold.

Then one time, I was serious. I drove to her apartment and burst into her living room to see Miranda alone, crying on her couch. I didn't care how she felt; I needed someone to yell at. So I took it out on her. I shouted it out, "Miranda, I know what you're doing! You need to get off that junk and come back to being my wholesome friend!" She denied, once again, and said, "Lizzie, nobody in this world is wholesome anymore." She said it with such a grave voice that I knew she had to go to rehab. So I made her.

Six months later, she was released, claiming she was relieved. She walked around with a smile on her face, left her friends and doing the old things we used to do together, the three of us.

Then one day, on her 20th birthday we were shopping and she ran into one of her old punk friends. I told her I had to go to the bathroom and when I returned the friend was gone and Miranda seemed different. Then when I accused her of being on drugs again she shouted and screamed at me, and then she said she didn't want to see me anymore, ever. I- I- I didn't think she was serious, but I never did see her after that. I respected her privacy and I thought she would get over it, but she didn't.

Then last night, she took one too many. Her boyfriend, Roy, found her pale and cold on the couch the next morning, while he was returning from a weekend trip. When he called this morning, my heart shattered. I couldn't think of life without Miranda, and I couldn't see Gordo's face anymore without thinking of her. I don't think Gordo ever knew about her addiction until I told him about my fight with her just before she died. Roy wants me to go over there today, but I don't think I can go without an attempt of killing myself.

* * *

Gordo's POV: 

So here we are, at Miranda and Roy's apartment. We rang the doorbell and Roy answered, his eyes red and puffy from crying. "Come in," he said with all of the braveness in his heart. As soon as Lizzie saw what he was holding she started to sob and the tears ran down her face like a river. It wasn't a glistening river though; it was a corrupted river, one with the same evilness of a dictator. The tears came to my eyes too, when I realized the picture Roy was holding was a picture of Lizzie, Miranda, and me making funny faces and having a good time.

Roy welcomed us in more and we sat on the couch. Lizzie leaned over and said something really softly to me, "This is the same couch Miranda was found dead on."

I jerked myself up from the couch and threw one of the pillows across the room. I shouted to no one in particular, "No! Why her? God, I hate myself!"

Lizzie came next to me; picked up the pillow I threw only two feet, and said, "You didn't even know."

I looked at her, "You knew?"

"Yeah," Lizzie sighed. "I confronted her a few times, she denied it. I should've been tougher, forceful. I thought she had been alright after returning from rehab."

The soft saline from her eyes came down like rain as she mumbled some things I couldn't understand and I just took her in my arms. She pulled away again.

I looked around the living room. All the picture frames were down. I walked over to the fireplace and turned one up. It was one of Lizzie and Miranda, as kids, licking their popsicles. I pushed it down again, accidentally breaking the glass. I picked up the one next to it. It was a picture of mine and Lizzie's first kiss, photo courtesy of Kate who was spying on us all along when we went to Rome in middle school.

I left that one up and picked up another one, which was a picture of the three of us as babies, in the bathtub. The tears burst from my eyes as I studied that picture. Miranda's face was covered with bubbly soap but her eyes shone dark brown from the camera flash. Lizzie, too, was covered in soap, but her white-blonde hair and blue eyes lightened the photo and shone against mine and Miranda's dark features. Then I studied myself. I looked over me, my bright toothless smile and my curly hair even curlier from the soapy water. I wanted to be there again, I wished I could go back in time and be there instead of looking back on it. "Can I keep this?" I asked Roy. He nodded solemnly, and I shoved the colorful glass frame with the picture in it in a plastic bag.

I went back to looking at the pictures when Lizzie shoved something in my face. She was bawling, so I decided to take a look at it. "My God," I said in disbelief. The picture was taken just before Miranda's death. Miranda stood in a dark black sweatshirt and tight black jeans with her group of punk friends on a street somewhere as the streetlight shone in the background.

"She led a double life," Roy interrupted my thoughts. "I knew about both of them, but you didn't. During the day she was a successful secretary in an executive office. But at night she turned into a punk monster. I tried to stop her, I didn't think she would do anything to get her killed, but I guess I was wrong." He blew his nose into the tissue he held. I took the picture in my hands and threw it against the nearest wall, alerting both Roy and Lizzie as the glass shattered and fell to the stained tan carpet. Lizzie stared at me with a puzzled look, but I just went back to looking at pictures.

Just behind the couch we found a box of photos of Miranda. We started to go through them when we realized they were all pictures of her gang life. I ripped them, every one of them. When I got to the bottom of the box, Lizzie ordered me to stop. She picked it up from the bottom of the plastic container and held it in her hands. Lizzie's tears came again when she realized it was a picture of herself. She cradled it close in her hands and hugged it close to her chest. "She still cared about me," she said in a whisper.

"Lizzie," Roy said with a lot of sadness in his voice, "I want you to have all of her make-up and girl stuff. I can't bear to look at it anymore."

"I can't use it," Lizzie refused. "But I'll take it."

Roy nodded and went into the bedroom. He came out with all of Miranda's make-up, which turned out to be mostly dark colors.

"I knew that she was changing," I said to myself. "Why didn't I stop her?" Lizzie patted me on the back. A few minutes later and we were driving home in my beat-up car. When we reached our apartment we didn't get out of the car.

"God, why are you enjoying this?" Lizzie said as she looked up at the roof of my car. "Do You like to torture people, God?"

"Lizzie, He's not torturing us, it was meant to be," I said solemnly.

* * *

Lizzie's POV: 

I woke up the next day in my bed without changing my clothes or anything. My black mascara was streaked down my pale face and my blonde hair was frizzy and sticking up in weird places. Just when I thought it all was a dream I saw a photo on my nightstand. It was a photo of Gordo, Miranda, and me in the bathtub as babies, with bubbles foaming all over us. Gordo must've captured it from Miranda's apartment the day before. I cried myself back to sleep.

I woke up at 3'o'clock in the afternoon to the sound of my alarm clock. _Why is it going off _nowI asked myself. I then realized that it was a weekday and I had already missed work. _Why didn't Gordo wake me up? _I walked sleepily into the living room and was dismayed at what I saw.

* * *

Okay, so I normally don't do a lot of first person because it gets too confusing, but here it is, my first person story. Tell me if you like it that way because I might consider it for other stories. I know, it's a bit dramatic, but when an idea pops in my head I go for it! I hope it made tears come to your eyes at least because in Lizzie's first POV I was going to start bawling. You know it's true, Miranda wasn't around a lot at the ending of the series, so I made something of it. Review because I really need to know if you like this story. If I don't get 5 reviews then I'm not continuing, SO REVIEW! 


	2. Chapter 2

Lizzie's POV:

I screamed as I took one glance at the scene in my living room. Gordo lay cold and unmoving on the tan carpet with a picture in his hand. It was a picture of Miranda when we were about 12. Beside him, there was a note, and I picked it up, my eyes in tears.

The note read:

_Dear Lizzie,_

_I'm sorry I had to leave you this way. I couldn't stand the thought of Miranda being alone in heaven or being with her gangster friends. I would've asked you about my decision, but I knew you would talk me out of it. Please, Lizzie, don't be sad because I'm in a better place than this wretched world. As you read this, I am probably with Miranda right now; we'll be back for you Lizzie. Join us, please, I left the knife in my right hand, I'm pretty sure. Goodbye forever, Lizzie McGuire._

_Gordo_

I dropped the paper that had been weighted down by my tears. I grabbed Gordo's left hand, feeling to see if he was still possibly alive; he wasn't. Where the knife had struck his chest was covered in cold, red blood and the knife blade still in the open flesh.

I hopped up from the dead Gordo and into my own room where I had hidden a captured picture from Miranda's house. It was a picture of mine and Gordo's first kiss, taken by Kate. I hugged it close to my chest as I thought of the dead body that lay in my own apartment. Feeling weary, although having so much rest, I dropped my body on the soft bed and slept.

Matt's POV:

My sister and I had some pretty humbling moments as we grew older. Now that we're both moved out and going to college, I feel like we're closer. She doesn't call me a lot, so I thought it was nice when she called this morning. I picked up the phone and was suddenly silenced by her grave voice.

So here I am now, my parents and I are at the door of Lizzie's apartment, awaiting the pale face of the devastated Lizzie McGuire. When the door swung open after the first rap on the door, I knew she had been eagerly awaiting our arrival, maybe too eagerly. She flung into my mom's arms and cried.

I, myself, walked a few steps into the apartment and found Gordo on the floor with a knife in his chest. I leaned down to feel him, and I told myself that he was for sure dead. The tears came to my eyes as I saw the broken picture that lay beside him. It was a picture of Lizzie and Gordo kissing, their first kiss judging by their age. I picked it up, sweeping away the broken glass and feeling the photograph itself. I put it back in its broken glass case and cried.

Just then, the apartment shook. I clutched onto the carpet as Gordo's lifeless body rolled away. Lizzie and my mom let out a scream as my dad shouted for us to hold onto something. One step ahead of you, Dad.

Then there were voices. They seemed to be saying, "Lizzie." Lizzie shrieked as she realized this too. I grabbed harder onto the carpet, when suddenly I saw two figures forming in the corner of the room.

"Lizzie," the girl figure said, "Why didn't you stop me?"

"Yeah," the boy figure said, "You could've stopped me too, if you hadn't been so tired and selfish!"

"No!" Lizzie shouted. "Go away!"

"Is that anyway to treat your friends?" the two figures said in unison.

"Lizzie, It's me, Miranda," the girl figure said.

"And Gordo," the boy figure added.

"No!" Lizzie screamed again. "You aren't my friends. You're scaring me and my family and tearing up my apartment!"

"Well, you aren't going to be living for much longer," Miranda's ghost said.

"Don't you want to join us?" Gordo's ghost added.

"I," Lizzie looked around at us, "I don't know."

"We'll be back tomorrow at this exact time to see if you've made up your mind," they both said in unison and then disappeared.

The apartment shook back into its normal position and we all stumbled, me loosing my grip of the carpet. We all took a look at the clock. They would be back at 12:34pm tomorrow.

"Lizzie," I spoke softly, "Do you want them to take you?"

Lizzie burst into tears, "I-I- I don't know. There's nothing for me to live for now anyways."

"Lizzie, there's plenty to live for," Mom said.

"For you, you have friends!" Lizzie stumbled over to the couch and closed her eyes.

"You're not going to sleep away the possible last 24 hours of your life, are you?" I asked in skepticism.

Lizzie nodded and mumbled something to herself. Then she looked up toward the sky and shouted, "God, take me home!" She went back into her huddled ball and whimpered as she mumbled, "God, take me home," over and over again.

"Lizzie, let's go get some fresh air," I said, making a suggestion. Lizzie just nodded, not even attempting to go fix herself up. We just walked outside. We walked down to the juice bar down the street and I sat Lizzie in one of the tables in the back, while I went to the bathroom.

Lizzie's POV:

I looked around the juice shop to see no one I particularly knew. I looked down at the silverware to see a spoon, a fork, and a knife. Most people in that state would've picked up the knife or fork and at least hesitated to kill themselves. But I picked up the spoon wondering if I could scoop my shattered heart out and throw it on the ground. I put down the spoon and picked up the fork wondering if I could gauge my eyes out and then poke it through my brain in a more painful death. Just out of curiosity, I poked it to my forehead. It hurt. I put down the fork and picked up the last utensil, the knife. The only logical place to jab that would be my heart, where it would hurt most. I brought the knife closer and closer to my chest when I suddenly felt a warm hand on mine.

I looked up to see a familiar looking man smiling down at me. "Lizzie," he said with a charming smile, "do you know who I am?"

I shook my head but then looked deeper into his eyes. I gave up, and then with a croaky voice I asked his name.

"My name is Ethan," the man said with a shimmer in his eyes.

"Ethan Craft?" I asked, suddenly realizing that my middle school crush was standing right before me with a smile on his face.

"Yeah," he said with a laugh. "And I just caught you before you died."

"Oh Ethan, everything has been horrible since high school, when you left," I sobbed. Ethan had moved to L.A. during the freshman year, in which Lizzie pinpointed her life going down in flames. So she spilled out what happened and Ethan listened to the end.

"So are you here with someone? If I were you, I would stay in my house hiding under the bed," Ethan laughed.

I then remembered Matt. "Oh he's in the bathroom. Do you remember my brother, Matt?"

Ethan nodded, "Yeah, he's cool. Where's your place?"

"Down the street," I said absently. I then gasped in remembrance, "my place, Miranda and Gordo's ghosts! I can't go back there. What do I do?"

"You mean their ghosts came after you?" Ethan said, puzzled. "You can't run from them, Lizzie. They are inside of you, they're your memories. What you have to do is tell them that you don't want to die."

"I wish they were still alive!" I sobbed and cried onto Ethan's shoulder.

"It's okay Lizzie," he said to me reassuringly, "We all have to deal with these things. My mom died last summer and now I don't have anything either. But you don't see me almost stabbing a knife into my heart in a juice shop."

I giggled, "I guess you're right." True, it wasn't anything to giggle about, but he said it with the funniest face I have ever seen. "Ethan, I've always liked you."

"I've always liked you too, Lizzie McGuire," Ethan said with a bright white smile.

We kissed but were interrupted by Matt walking up to us and saying, "Jeez, it hasn't been twenty-four hours since your boyfriend died, Lizzie."

I pulled away from the kiss and jerked my head away from Ethan's, almost bopping him in the nose. "Hi Matt, you remember Ethan?"

"I do," Matt said with the biggest grin on his face, "You two kids getting married someday soon?"

I blushed and Ethan said coolly, "When we feel like it." I laughed and Ethan joined me.

The next day at exactly 12:33, Ethan and I stood alone in the living room, awaiting the arrival of my ghost friends. The dishes in the kitchen started to clatter and Ethan and I clutched the sofa, watching Gordo's still dead body roll around the apartment.

"Lizzie," the two spirits said in unison, "We have come back, as promised. What is your decision?"

"I don't want to die," I said, gulping a big gulp of courage.

"What?" Miranda asked furiously.

"I-I-I don't want to leave this earth. My family would be miserable, my other friends wouldn't be too happy…"

"Other friends?" the two infuriated spirits asked ferociously.

"Well, we've- we've all had our other friends, like Miranda and her gang, and Gordo and his nerd friends. I have other people that care about me too. Ethan is going to be my new boyfriend," I said nervously.

"New boyfriend?" Gordo's spirit glared at me accusingly.

"Well," I started weakly and then paused. I then realized that these were my friends, no matter that they were ghosts. I started again enraged with anger, "You guys can't tell me what to do! First of all, if Miranda gets to be on drugs then I get to be doing whatever I want. If Gordo can stab himself, in which your blood has permanently ruined the carpet, then I can date Ethan. You guys were my friends, but now you're just bullies. You heard me, bullies. You're mean and don't understand that maybe I don't want to die right now. I'll die when I feel like it, so leave me alone!"

"Whoa, Lizzie, way to go!" Ethan cheered.

"Silence!" Miranda ordered him.

Mad, again, I shouted at her, "Don't boss my new boyfriend around either! You're just jealous because you liked him in middle school!"

"Lizzie," Gordo's ghost sat on the couch, "We still love you. We want you to be with us. We'll come back every day at 12:34, waiting for you to make up your mind."

"Yeah," Miranda's ghost added and they flashed out of the apartment.

"Lizzie, I'm so sorry for you," Ethan said.

"That's okay," I smiled. "At least I still have my friends."

Ethan's POV (one year later):

Lizzie and I turned out to be the perfect match for me. Even though, I admit, I was a little air-headed in middle school, now I'm a lawyer. Lizzie and I are married by almost one month now and we love it. We're hoping to have a few kids in the next few years, but I'm not the one who's going to be home with them.

We sold the apartment, not even trying hard to get out Gordo's blood. They have had so many people live in that apartment since Lizzie and Gordo, it's funny. The apartment is still haunted; Gordo and Miranda come at 12:34 each day. Soon, they'll figure out where we live and come after us. But until then, Lizzie and I are going to be just fine.

THE END

I know it was long, but I really don't want to do a third chapter. I hope you liked it; it was just something that came to mind. I love all of you who have reviewed, keep doing it!


End file.
